


In Passing

by TrueMyth



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Episode: s02e10 "One Angry Veronica", Gen, Light Angst, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4742741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueMyth/pseuds/TrueMyth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Passing

**Author's Note:**

> Very different from my other stuff and bordering on saccharine. Written for the “What Dreams May Come” challenge at vmfanficutopia (On LiveJournal). Beta’d by ladydisdain225 and shizam23. This was my first experiment with first person PoV.

I had grown to hate the dreamscape: wide spaces of time with nothing but my own thoughts for company. Guest ghosts of loved and loathed ones flickering through my mind, while my eyes darted beneath the delicate membrane of their lids. I could not direct my thoughts or memories. When a beloved retreated to the black haze, I could not hold them to me. When the terror of long-suppressed horrors worked like razors upon my brain, I did not have the luxury of jerking awake in my bed, thereby returning to the peaceful grey of the waking world. The lack of control was maddening. It made me fight.

And I fought for you. I knew what would happen, if I should slip beneath the waves of dark dreams and then dream no more. You would die. Or worse.

You would live.

The life I had lived. Or the life that my sisters were living. 

I was a flawed creature. That is what my father had railed at me, his face turning purple like a deep veined beet. A fleck of saliva from his contorted mouth struck my cheek and I flinched. I always flinched. I only wish this was a deluded nightmare, but it was, instead, one of the clearest memories I had to relive down those long months.

I was sick. Immoral. A slut, a whore, a slattern. Unwed and pregnant and a disgrace to my family.

I had to live. To make sure you have your chance at a better life. To make certain there was someone who knew and who would act and who would take control where I could not. And I think it was the moment I realized who that person was that I woke up.

Now, when my eyelids close for this final time, they are damp. I think she heard me and that she understood, but the rushing cold of the empty space chills me and I begin to fear. So I struggle, away from the bright white light sucking me into the depth and clawing up to the grey dawn. The last time, I had burst through the surface to the sounds of seagulls before drifting into a deadman’s float of unconsciousness. But now the noises of the hospital machines and the doctors’ cries fade and I am slipping away and down, into a free-falling, uncontrolled spin.

In the end, you can control so very little in this life.

Things rush past and I find I don’t care. Indifference is the true malaise of the dead. And it set in even as the heart slows and the nurses in the corner of that grey room begin to fall back and realize, ‘No, she is too far gone, poor thing.’ Now I only look down towards that white light, growing ever larger.

A piece breaks off.

You are like a comet against the dark nothing. Beautiful and radiant and new as you flew against the current that towed me.

But you stopped for me. Oh, little darling, you stopped and with you so did the world.

For a second, for a lifetime, I am able to hold you, feel you. I know what the soft sweep of your cheek feels like. I hear the sound of your future voice, ringing in my ears like the sweetest bell. You smell like hope and the bridge of your nose skin tastes like moonbeams on my lips.

Before this heartbeat is over, before you move on and I down, you need to know just one thing. And I praise this dreamscape for giving me the time to say it.

I will always love you.


End file.
